


Family, Duty, Honor…and Love?

by akh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-18 10:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1425016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akh/pseuds/akh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story that follows Catelyn and Ned as they meet for the first time and start building their relationship brick by brick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Catelyn

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I don't know how long this story will be, but it's definitely more than a one-shot. How Ned and Cat grew to love each other has always fascinated me and I love everything that has already been written on the subject. This story is basically just me trying to answer the age old question for myself this time. Also, this is my first attempt at Ned/Cat or any ASOIAF related fic, so please bear with.

Family. Duty. Honor. Catelyn tasted the familiar words in her mouth, drawing strength from them as she always had done. But they were no longer just the noble words of her house that she had learned as a child and repeated with pride, nor were they the cherished guideline she had hung on to as an adolescent suddenly forced to take on the duties of her deceased mother. Today, and in the days, weeks, and years that followed, she would truly have to live up to the words she had taken into her heart.

Of course she had known for a long time that she was to marry to the North. The idea, though frightening at first to a twelve year old girl, was something she had grown accustomed to a long time ago – but she had been promised to Lord Stark’s eldest son. Lord Brandon Stark was the one she had built her hopes and girlish dreams of a future on. He was the one who had made her heart flutter and her cheeks go red at the thought of seeing him again.

And now…now she was still to have that future, but after the tragic death of both Lord Stark himself and his eldest son, her family’s honor now bound her to the son that was next in line. A different son, but the eldest now nonetheless, and there was nothing Catelyn could do to change the fact. If anything, the alliance that had always been designed to strengthen the bond between the Starks and the Tullys was needed now more than it ever had been before as war still raged in the seven kingdoms. To the two families it mattered little which Stark she would marry, as long as the marriage took place, and since Eddard Stark now held the lordship of Winterfell and all of the North, everything was as clear as it ever had been. Brandon was to be forgotten because she would marry Eddard Stark in his place.

And who was Eddard Stark? What little Catelyn knew of him she had learnt from her former betrothed and her own father. Bandon had sometimes mentioned his younger brother in passing when he spoke of his childhood in Winterfell, and her father had assured her that her future husband was a good, honorable man. Of his personality Catelyn knew almost nothing, except that Brandon had sometimes given to understand that his younger brother was a less charming, less handsome and less tall version of himself. Of course, how much of it had been brotherly teasing, Catelyn could not be sure of.

As she made her way from her bedchamber to the hall to meet her sister, Catelyn shook her head, trying to shake off any lingering thoughts of Brandon now that she was about to meet Eddard for the first time. Their courtship was to be a short one: in less than a week they would marry and almost as soon he would ride off to war again. She would have almost no time at all to get to know the man with whom, gods willing, she was to share her life with after the war – should he return from the war.

“Cat,” Lysa whispered loudly, joining her even before she had made it to the hall where they had agreed to meet. Catelyn placed a reassuring hand over her younger sister’s shoulder. She knew her sister to be even more agitated that she was herself.

“He is so old and…and fat,” Lysa continued in a hushed tone, clinging on to Catelyn’s dress as if her life depended on it.

Lysa, too, was to marry. Her match had been sketched in a hurry to join the House Arron into the union already to be formed between the Houses Stark and Tully. If Catelyn had been delivered a blow in the news of the change of her betrothed, the blow to Lysa was perhaps even more severe. She had not expected to have to marry for another two years at least, and certainly not to a man over twice her own age. Also, Lysa did not possess the quiet determination that drove Catelyn. She had always been more prone to dramatic outbursts.

“Calm yourself, sister,” Catelyn spoke under her breath. “They will hear you.” She knew it was unlikely, as a heavy door and half the length of the hall still stood between them, but this was not the time to risk conflict, and the hall had been known to carry echoes.

“I can’t marry him,” Lysa insisted, lowering her whisper at Catelyn’s request but showing no other signs of calming.

Catelyn looked at her sympathetically. In her weakest moments her thoughts had not been very different, but this was not the time to dwell on them. They both must marry. For the honor of the family.

“You must,” she said gently. “We both must.”

Lysa looked as though she was about to argue, but before she could speak another word, the door at the other end of the hall opened, revealing their father. The look he gave his daughters told Catelyn that it was time. Their betrotheds were not to be kept waiting.

“Come,” she said simply, taking Lysa’s hand and half dragging her across the hall to where their father stood waiting.

Hoster Tully gave both his daughters a reassuring look as their reached him.

“The lords are waiting,” he said simply, pressing a hand first on Catelyn’s shoulder and then om Lysa’s. “I know you are both brought up well enough to need no further advice from me. I will introduce you and then stand back so you may make the acquaintance of your future lord husbands.” He was addressing them both, but his eyes remained on Lysa longer than they did on Catelyn, and as their lord father held open the door for his girls, it was Catelyn who dutifully stepped in first.

Her father had chosen the privacy of the solar as the venue of this first meeting and as Catelyn entered the rooms she could feel her heartbeat quicken. Lysa’s outburst had made her forget her own nerves for a moment, but now she was reminded again of their existence. She took in a deep, calming breath, unable to meet the eyes of the two men just barely within her line of vision as she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. Catelyn did not look up until Lysa and her father had joined her in the room.

“Lord Stark,” her father spoke, and now Catelyn forced herself to meet his eyes. She noted they were grey and looked very serious. “This is my daughter, Lady Catelyn. “

Catelyn made a curtsey and was rewarded a solemn bow in return, but not many words.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, my lady,” he spoke- not very gracefully but at least with perfect politeness.

“It is I who am honored, my lord” Catelyn replied in the same solemn manner. In the corner of her eye she saw her sister being introduced to Lord Arryn, and as soon as she was assured that Lysa was fulfilling her duty with appropriate behavior, she allowed her glance to travel back at her own fiancé.

His eyes, it seemed, had never left her while she had looked away and Catelyn felt herself blush under his steady gaze. She had not been sure whether she rather hoped or feared that he would look like Brandon, but she found herself now quite relieved to learn that there was very little resemblance. Eddard Stark may have been Brandon’s brother, but already after their first exchange she could tell he was a very different sort of man. In a way Brandon had been right, Catelyn thought. This man was indeed a less charming, less handsome, and a less tall version of Brandon, and she could have added even more lesses, for he also seemed to be less talkative and less personable than Brandon, but still…Catelyn wondered…there was something in those grey eyes that seemed to suggest he might also be something more if she could ever find a way to penetrate them.

As the wheels in Catelyn’s head turned, she realized the room had gone quiet. The formal part of the introductions was over and Lord Arryn had already led Lysa to take a seat with him near the fireplace. When she glanced at Lord Stark again, she realized the look in his eyes had turned expectant. Neither of them had spoken since the first introduction.

Casting her eyes one more time around the room Catelyn quickly observed that, with the seats by the fireplace already occupied, the only place where they might share a moment of relative privacy was the small alcove by the window at the opposite end of the room. 

She turned to the young lord again with more assurance. “Would my lord like to see the view from the window?” Catelyn asked.

“It would please me very much,” the man replied, seemingly grateful for the idea. A little hesitantly he offered her his arm, and Catelyn took it without a word, allowing him to escort her to the window.

It was a strong arm, she thought. Strong and steady, just like the man it belonged to. But there was little time for more observations as they reached the alcove and it was time to break the physical contact.

Catelyn was the first to sit down, and Lord Stark – perhaps she ought to start thinking of him as Eddard now – took a seat next to her, careful to maintain a respectful distance as he did so. Another aspect where he differed from Brandon.

“I’m sorry, my Lady Catelyn, that our marriage has to be such a hurried affair,” he spoke without waiting long. It seemed they were the words he had wanted to speak from the moment they had been introduced. “I know you had years to prepare for….” he trailed off, clearly finding it difficult to put into words the fact that she had been betrothed to his brother. “ And now all of us a sudden it’s me and not….” He halted again and Catelyn took pity of him. Until now she had only thought of her own discomfort, but she understood with sudden clarity that no matter how difficult this was for her, it had to be even more so for Eddard. He had lost a brother and a father while she had only lost a man she had thought would one day be her husband, and now he had barely a week to wed his brother’s betrothed before riding to war again in search of his sister.

Instinctively, Catelyn reached out her hand and placed it on top of Eddard’s, squeezing his fingers lightly.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my lord,” she said gently. “This may not be the ideal way to begin a marriage, but I know the fault is not yours. And I know your losses have been greater than mine.”

He bent his head down at her words, and Catelyn took the opportunity to continue, hoping to reassure him: “I do wish I could get to know you better before we must be apart again, but I also want this war to be over, and I know it won’t be if this marriage doesn’t take place to unite our houses. Or perhaps the war would be over, but to our loss rather than our victory.”

Now Eddard was looking at her again, and Catelyn thought she saw a new expression in those grey eyes she still found so hard to read. Was it admiration or did she only wish that it was?

“Then I shall endeavor to bring this war to and end as soon as possible,” he said earnestly. Then, thinking perhaps that he had not said enough, he added: “I wish I could offer you better words and promises, but I’m afraid I don’t have a talent for expressing myself by any means other than my actions.”

Whatever his flaws as a conversationalist might have been, at least he was very considerate, Catelyn thought. In fact, it occurred to her soon, he was more so than Brandon had been.

“You are a good man,” she said, trying again to shake off the thoughts of Brandon that kept surfacing, un-beckoned. She couldn’t keep comparing the two forever.

“And yet here I am, claiming your hand when your heart must still belong to my brother,” Eddard replied, almost as if he had guessed her train of thought.

Catelyn blushed, looked down at her hands and then up at the face of her betrothed. There was no accusation in his eyes, she was sure, but further than that his expression was heard to read. She then glanced at her father who had joined Lysa and Lord Arron by the fire, seemingly anxious to ensure that Lysa would do her best to form an acquaintance. Catelyn judged the distance between the fire and the window to be sufficient to ensure her and Lord Eddard enough privacy for a more open conversation, and thus she began:

“I will not pretend that I hadn’t grown attached to your brother,” she said, lowering her voice a little, “You must know I was engaged to him since I was twelve years old, and the long engagement gave me an opportunity to get to know him more than I will have the chance to know you before we marry. As for my heart…” Catelyn paused. What of her heart? Had she actually loved Brandon or just the idea of him? Sometimes she wondered if his death should have hurt her more. It did hurt, of course, and the shock of suddenly having to marry the younger brother had not eased the passing, but she hadn’t felt the desolation she had thought such tragic loss of love should warrant. “As for my heart,” she continued, when Eddard looked at her expectantly, “It doesn’t matter. The union that our fathers planned was always a strategic one, and it is even more necessary now than when it was first devised. I was fortunate to have more time to get to know Brandon but I hope in time you and I will be able to get to know each other too.”

“That is my wish as well,” Eddard replied and Catelyn noted he really wasn’t a man of many words, nor did his face give away much when he spoke. She wondered how she would ever get to know him when he gave away so little. The days before their wedding were numbered and short. If he were not to return from the war, she would have to mourn a stranger for a husband.

“My lady?” he spoke then, startling Catelyn who had been lost in her thoughts.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Would it please you to walk to the riverbank with me tomorrow? I hear much of its beauty, but I have yet to see it from close.”

Catelyn smiled nervously. Had he read her thoughts again?

“It would please me very much, my lord,” she replied. Perhaps in daylight, not confined in a room with her father and another courting couple, they could speak more freely.


	2. Eddard

Ned paced the length of the bailey back and forth, trying to stitch together his thoughts while waiting for Lady Catelyn. She was not late but he had arrived early, unable to find rest in his guest chamber. Too much had fallen on his shoulders too suddenly. Not long ago he had been the younger son, used to taking orders rather than giving them, and now all of a sudden he had the whole North under his command and protection.

If that wasn’t enough, he also had a wedding to attend to in a few days – a wedding which he had expected to attend as a guest, but had found himself promoted to the position of the bridegroom only a fortnight ago. More than anything, Ned longed for the peace of his own godswood in Winterfell to sort his thoughts in quiet solitude. Last night after meeting his betrothed for the first time he had wandered to the copse they called godswood at Riverrun, but it was not the same. The old gods – hid gods - felt too far away.

“My lord?”

Ned froze. He recognized the voice he had heard the day before and turned swiftly around to face the person who had addressed him. Lady Catelyn, as he had guessed, stood in the middle of the courtyard, regarding him with some curiosity. Ned wondered how long she had already stood there, simply watching his rambling, and he felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. 

“My lady, I…I did not see you,” he soon found his voice, but the words stumbled out with every bit of the awkwardness he felt. Speaking to high born young ladies with ease was an artform he had never mastered. That had always been Brandon’s forte.

“I’m sorry if I startled you,” the lady spoke, her words flowing with the perfect ease of well-practiced politeness. Ned observed that in daylight she looked even more beautiful than she had done by firelight the night before. In fact, a fire still seemed to remain in her long, auburn tresses that had caught the first rays of the morning sun. _How well the two of them would have looked together, her and Brandon_ , Ned thought darkly. The gods must have a twisted sense of humor.

“I hope there’s nothing troubling you, my lord,” the lady continued when Ned was slow to reply. Then she seemed to think better of what she had just said and shook her head. “No, but of course you have plenty to trouble you, my lord. I’m sorry to have intruded on your time.”

She moved to leave but Ned bade her to stay. 

“My lady, you're not intruding at all,” he assured her quickly. “I came down here with the intention of meeting you, but arrived too early and allowed my thoughts to carry me away. I apologize.” He bowed his head to express his remorse.

“Please do not apologize, my lord,” Catelyn replied, her voice kinder than Ned had expected. “I would wish that the thoughts that took you were not unpleasant, but I’m afraid at a time like this they can hardly have been anything else. I only hope you will be able to enjoy this day despite everything that must trouble you.”

Ned bowed again. “You are kind, my lady,” he muttered, not quite sure how to respond. When he straightened up, he remembered the original purpose of their meeting and continued: “Would you still walk with me to the river, if my current company is not too grim for you?”

“If grim company frightened me, I would not have been able to spend much time with my lord father lately,” Lady Catelyn replied with a small smile, her countenance relaxing a little, “I’m afraid war has a way of making most men grim, and women too.”

_Brandon was never grim_ , Ned thought, but did not speak out. Instead, he allowed his betrothed to lead him out of the courtyard in silence.

While they walked, Ned tried to make sense of the copper-haired woman by his side. That she was brought up to be a great lady was obvious, and it seemed equally obvious that true to the words of her house, she was determined to do her duty by him. Even now she appeared willing to please him, no matter how little pleased she herself might be with her new betrothed. As Ned cast his mind back to the evening before, he could trace a similar pattern in her behavior then. He knew the expectation of this wedding could not bring her joy, yet she had spent most of the previous evening trying to make _him_ feel at ease – not with empty words and false promises that he detested – but with simple facts and reasoning that made him see that they at least shared a common purpose. She had offered him a start and it had been a better start than he could ever have dared to hope for, under the circumstances.

 

They passed the outer walls of the keep in silence and it had only just occurred to Ned that perhaps it was his turn to speak when Catelyn suddenly turned to address him: “Would you wish to share some of your troubling thoughts with me as we walk?” she asked as they took the path that led out of the keep towards the river. Her tone was less formal than it had been before. “A wife should share her husband’s burdens, and though we are not married yet, we will be very soon.”

Ned considered her words. For a long time now, Jon Arryn had been the one he had been able to go to with all his worries, but he was busy now preparing for war and getting to know his own betrothed. Ned could not trouble him with his concerns. Though Lady Catelyn herself occupied a substantial share of his latest thoughts, might he not at least speak to her of his other burdens? She had already proven herself a sensible young lady and she was right this time as well: a husband and wife should be able to share their life's burdens. He knew it had been so for his own parents, and though he could hardly compare his relationship to a woman he had just met to what his parents had shared, he could not help wishing that perhaps one day in the distant future he might – even despite everything that seemed to make it so difficult right now.

At length he spoke: “I was thinking of Winterfell, my lady. I was thinking of how the North has so suddenly been placed under my command, and how ill prepared I must be for the role.”

Catelyn was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful as she bit her lower lip, and Ned wondered if he should not have laid out his own shortcomings to her so openly. She must already think of him a poor substitute for Brandon. Did he have to lower himself in her estimation even more?

“I do not think leadership is something anyone can be truly prepared for,” she finally said just as Ned had begun cursing himself. She turned her eyes to his and he was relieved to see no contempt in them. “I was very young when my lady mother passed,” she continued, looking away again. “Needless to say, I was not at all prepared to be the lady of the house when that title was thrust upon me so unexpectedly. I thought I could never fill her place, and I still don’t think I do, but I have managed nevertheless. I know running a household cannot be compared to commanding the entire North, but I believe the same logic may still exist. If you take on the task that has been given to you, you will in time grow to fulfill its needs, no matter how impossible it may seem at first.”

Ned listened to Lady Catelyn’s speech in silence and it struck him that if the gods had been cruel to him of late, it seemed they had at least chosen to bless him with a lady whose wisdom far exceeded his own. It was a bitter blessing, knowing her heart must belong to another, but he chose to take it as a blessing regardless.

“Your words are wise,” Ned spoke when his lady had finished. “I can only wish to live long enough to grow, like you said, into the responsibility that has been placed on my shoulders.” He paused for a moment and, glancing at Catelyn, he added: “I’m sorry that you had to lose your mother so young. I lost my own in a similar way.”

As soon as he had spoken, Ned wondered if she and Brandon had already had the same conversation about their respective mothers, and he immediately regretted his choice of subject. Her words seemed to confirm his suspicion.

“I had heard of your loss,” she said in a gentle tone. “Your mother must have been a remarkable woman.”

“She was,” Ned replied, “I don’t think my father was ever quite the same after her passing. Perhaps none of us were.” Again, he could not help thinking of Brandon. He wondered if Brandon had shared his grief with her, but Lady Catelyn made no mention of her former betrothed. 

“I believe it was the same with my father and our family,” she said instead, staring forward as her mind seemed to drift to the past. “Like I said, I was able to take on my mother’s duties, but nothing and no one could ever take her place. I sometimes wonder if it’s selfish of me to be glad that my father has not remarried, but I confess that I am.” Here she turned to look at Ned again and there was a small, almost apologetic smile on her lips that he found quite enchanting. Her smiles at him earlier had been strained at best, but there was something so disarming about the look she gave him now that he found, almost despite himself, his own lips curving slightly in return.

“I cannot fault you there, my lady,” he replied with a hint of humor in his voice. “I would have been quite cross if my father had married again.”

His words made Catelyn’s smile grow and Ned felt fully rewarded. He wasn’t sure if he had ever made a young lady smile, apart from his own sister.

“What a pair we make,” Catelyn sighed, the smile still playing on her lips, and Ned, in fear of saying something to break the companionable moment, said nothing at all until they reached the riverbank.

The silence, though rather long, did not feel uncomfortable. The day was sunny and a little too hot for Ned’s liking, but as he could see how his betrothed enjoyed the warm brightness of the day, he could not wish for the sun to disappear. She would see enough coldness if he would live to bring her home to Winterfell. Out of the corner of his eye, Ned kept glancing at his betrothed, and with each passing look he grew more aware of her beauty, finding it increasingly difficult to believe that such a woman could be intended for him.

Ned’s mood darkened again as he had to remind himself that she _hadn’_ t, in fact, been intended for him. Brandon was the husband that should have been. _He_ would have been worthy of Catelyn Tully, a woman never meant for a second son, Ned thought surly. Then he immediately had to chastise himself for feeling any hint of jealousy towards his dead brother.

“This is a beautiful place,” he spoke almost urgently to banish his thoughts when they descended to the riverbank.

“We used to run here every day as children to swim in the river,” Catelyn replied lightly, as if the nearness of the river had brought out something of a child in her. “Lysa and I still come here, but there’s less running involved,” she added, smiling again. “And usually more clothing.”

Ned blushed. The harder he tried not to picture his betrothed scantily clothed in the water with her long, wet hair falling freely down her shoulders, the more firmly the image planted itself in his mind.

“You must enjoy the water,” he finally managed to cough out, keeping his eyes fixed on the swirls of the running river as he was unable to meet the eyes of the lady.

“I do,” Catelyn replied, oblivious of the turmoil she had caused. Her face had turned thoughtful again and there was sorrow in those two little words that brought Ned’s gaze back to her face. He could guess the direction of her thoughts.

“I hear you have ponds in Winterfell?” she continued soon, her words something between a question and a statement.

“We do,” Ned replied, thinking fondly of the dark, still pools of water that dotted the woods around his ancient home “But it’s not running water,” he added apologetically.

“I know,” Catelyn replied with a small sigh. “I will miss the rivers, but I’ve known for a long time where I will be going. Ponds will have to do.” She paused for a moment and glanced at Ned. “Would you tell me more about Winterfell?”

Ned would happily have granted her wish, but he hesitated. “Nothing would please me more than to talk about Winterfell, but will it not bore you?” he asked. “I would have thought Brandon already told you everything there was to know.” There, he had finally spoken the name that had been plaguing his thoughts for some time now.

“He may have told me about his Winterfell,” she admitted, her cheeks colouring a little before she met Ned’s eyes again. “But I would like to hear about _your_ Winterfell now. What are your fondest memories of it? Would you sit down on the bank with me and tell?”

Ned sighed. How was he to refuse her such a request? Following Catelyn’s example, he eased himself down on the bank of the river, surprised by how easily he found comfort on the soft ground. Mayhap in time he would forget to think of Brandon at every turn and, gods willing, she would too, but for now he would sit with his betrothed and tell her anything she wished to hear.


	3. Catelyn

Catelyn had decided she could almost like Lord Stark, or Eddard, as she had taken to calling him in her mind. She had not yet called him anything but Lord Stark or ‘my lord’ in person, but something told her he probably would not mind less formality. Sometimes she wondered if he might even prefer it, for especially being addressed as Lord Stark often seemed to bring a grim look on his face, as if the title that until recently had belonged to his father still felt foreign to him.

Eddard and Lord Arryn had now spent four days at Riverrun, and though the impending war meant that both guests had spent more time with Lord Hoster Tully than with his daughters, Eddard at least had made sure to meet Catelyn each day for a solitary walk so they might have some opportunity to get to know each other. Their meetings were often strained and not much was said on either side after Catelyn had exhausted her selection of polite inquiries that were always met with short answers, but she appreciated his effort of seeking her out nonetheless. She had heard from Lysa that her younger sister hardly ever saw Jon Arryn at all except during meals, and if they did meet, it was always with other people present. As much as Catelyn still viewed Eddard as a stranger, at least she was beginning to grow accustomed to his presence, and felt no fear of being left alone with him.

By this time Riverrun was bustling with visitors. Even though the double wedding would not be as extravagant an event as it might have been during the time of peace, it would certainly be just as well attended. Lord Tully’s bannermen had been present for the longest, called in early to discuss the war they were to join, and invited to stay through the wedding. Lord Arryn and Eddard had brought with them their own men, and other guests had also come from the North and the Vale to pay respects to their respective Lords. Even beyond the walls of the castle much of the Riverlands stretched with the armies that were gathering there, not part of the wedding party, but ready to ride on the command of their lords as soon as the festivities would be over.

Privacy in such circumstances was a rare commodity, but Catelyn knew Riverrun better than any of its guests and every day she had managed to find a quiet spot for her and Eddard to spend an hour or two in each other’s company without too many interruptions. Today, however, might be the first exception as it was the last day of their short betrothal and the day would end in a feast that Catelyn would spend much of the day preparing for. She wondered now, as she stood reflecting by herself on the riverbank, if the next time she would meet Eddard in private would be as his wife.

The thought unsettled her and she felt a shiver run down her spine despite the warm breeze of the morning. She had not yet allowed herself to think much of the wedding night ahead, but now the thought came to her unbeckoned and she felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

“My lady?”

Catelyn gasped and spun around at the unexpected sound of Eddard’s voice just as she had been thinking of him. She had, in fact, been so lost in her thoughts that she had not heard him approach at all.

“Forgive me if I intrude. I thought I might find you here.”

“Gods be good, Lord Stark,” she breathed, unable to hide her surprise. “How did you find me here?” Though Catelyn had brought Eddard to the riverbank before, this time she had walked much further down the stream to distance herself from the noise of the castle. She had not expected to be found there, especially by her betrothed who barely knew Riverrun, but seeing the alarmed look that crossed Eddard’s face, Catelyn realized she should have worded her question better.

“I’m truly sorry, my lady,” he began apologizing profusely. “You must have come here for peace and quiet, and I know we did not agree to meet here but I thought…”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean your arrival was unwelcome,” Catelyn cut in quickly. Eddard had already turned to leave and, instinctively, she reached out her hand to stop him. The gesture proved more effective than Catelyn had expected, for he froze completely at her touch. “Please don’t go,” she begged. “I was only curious because I had told no one where I was going, and I would have thought only Lysa might think to find me here, this far downstream.”

“I only followed your footsteps, my lady,” Eddard replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then he glanced down at Catelyn’s hand that still remained on his arm. Catelyn’s eyes followed his gaze and with a slight blush she hastily withdrew her hand.

“I see no footprints,” she said, looking back to where she had come from. She had walked on grass and had stepped on no mud.

“A man who is trained to hunt can see much on the ground,” he replied, his lips curving into a small smile. Catelyn looked down at the grass again and on closer inspection she thought she could see that some of it had indeed been trampled down by feet – first hers and then his – but she would never have noticed it had it not been pointed out to her. Nor would she have been able to guess the direction of the steps. She turned back to Lord Eddard and smiled.

“Well, it seems you have found your prey,” she said with a hint of playfulness as her confidence returned, “I hope you are not disappointed to find that I am not a boar.”

At these words Eddard’s smile widened and he let out a brief laugh, although the sound was so foreign to Catelyn that it took her a moment to realize she had heard her betrothed laugh for the first time. It was over before her mind was able to register it.

“To find you, my lady, instead of a boar could never be a disappointment,” he replied, surprising Catelyn even further with his words. It was the closest he had come to saying anything remotely flirtatious to her. She smiled at him in return.

“I’m glad to hear it my lord,” she replied.

From past experience with Brandon, Catelyn half expected to feel Eddard’s lips on hers next, and for a moment she blushed at the thought and wondered how it might feel, but Eddard, though his grey eyes were fixed on her, stood still with no apparent intention of coming any closer. It seemed he was determined not to cross whatever it was he considered a respectful distance, but whether it was for her benefit or his own, Catelyn could not be sure. For the first time she wondered briefly if he might have had his heart set on some other woman before family duty fell on him like it had done on herself. Unreasonable as it was under the circumstances, Catelyn found she did not much like the idea of there being another woman.

“Would you like to walk a little further down the river with me?” she asked briskly, pushing the thought aside when it was apparent that Eddard wasn’t intending to do or say anything more. “I will have to turn back soon to oversee the final preparations for tonight’s feast, but the day is still young.”

Eddard readily took her offer, mentioning that when the time came he would return with her as he would be wanted in her father’s solar, and so they began walking slowly along the riverbank. As they walked, they soon fell into a customary silence, but boldened by the knowledge that this might be their last private moment before the wedding tomorrow, Catelyn decided she would not waste it in idle chatter.

She glanced at Eddard, his face as unreadable as ever. With him there was no telling whether this moment or that would be better to start a conversation, and so Catelyn decided there was no use waiting for any signal.

“My lord,” she began, keeping her eyes on Eddard. “May I ask what plans you have made with my father and Lord Arryn?”

Eddard blinked and turned to look at Catelyn as if he had been miles away before she spoke.

”I need no details of your battle plans,” she hastened to add when she saw the surprised look on his face. “I only wish to know how soon after the wedding you intend to ride away?” She knew she was not supposed to pry when it came to men and their plans of war, but this much at least she deserved to know.

Eddard took in a deep breath and let out a sigh before he replied: “We had hoped to remain a week, but it seems that will not be possible. Our men have received orders to be ready to ride out the day after the wedding.”

“The day after the wedding?” Catelyn gasped. She had stopped walking and stood looking at Eddard incredulously. “You cannot mean it!”

Eddard stopped too. His face was serious when he looked at Catelyn.

“I wish the circumstances were different,” he said, a gentle tone in his voice that Catelyn had not heard before. For a moment she thought he was going to take her hand into his, but the arm that had seemed to reach for her fell back to his side almost instantly. “I wish I could give you more,” he continued, looking away. “I know none of this can be what you would have wished for, but …”

“It matters not what I wish,” Catelyn interrupted him, steeling herself against any sense of bitterness she might have felt for her own situation. “But my lord, you are riding off to war without an heir…” she trailed off, blushing slightly. She hoped Eddard would understand her meaning without her needing to explain further. Though her knowledge of the marriage bed was limited at best, she was well enough informed to know that she would have to lay with her husband in order to produce a child, and she might have to lay with him many times before his child would grow inside her.

“I have a younger brother,” Eddard replied, looking a little confused, and Catelyn sighed. “He will be the lord of Winterfell if I die.”

_And am I to marry him next if you should not return?_ Catelyn wanted to ask, but held her tongue.

“I would like to bear you a son and heir, my lord,” she forced herself to say instead, biting her lip as she looked away.

Eddard paused, as if finally understanding what she had meant, and then color rose to his cheeks as well.

“My lady,” he said softly, but didn’t seem to know how to continue.

“I think we ought to return to the castle,” Catelyn said quickly, unable to bear the silence and embarrassed that she had said anything on the subject at all. “The sun is so high it must be later than I had thought.” She turned swiftly and began walking in the direction of the keep.

Catelyn did not look back as she hurried away but almost instantly she could hear Eddard’s footsteps behind her.

“Catelyn,” he called after her and she started at the use of her given name. “May I call you Catelyn, my lady?”

“It is my name and I am to be your wife,” she said coolly, but then glanced at Eddard and amended her tone. “Yes, you may call me Catelyn,” she added, forcing a smile to her lips.

“Ned,” he said in return, his grey eyes meeting her blue ones with a steady gaze.

“Ned?” Catelyn repeated, a little confused. Then realizing what he meant, she inquired: “Not Eddard then?”

“No one calls me Eddard,” he replied, his expression relaxing a little. “When I was a boy I always knew I was in trouble if I heard the name Eddard,” he added with what almost looked like a smile again.

“Ned,” Catelyn repeated the name again, tasting it in her mouth. She had almost grown used to the name Eddard and was not sure she was ready to start calling him Ned now. It was almost as if the shorter name held a tone of familiarity she did not yet feel towards this man.

They were both silent for a moment, but when Catelyn started towards the castle again, she waited for Eddard to take his place by her side.

“My lady,” he spoke after a while. “Catelyn,” he corrected himself. “You must know how pleased I would be for a son, or a daughter, to come home to. Nothing would make me happier. But I would not have it be a pressure on you, not when we have so little time.”

Catelyn slowed down her walk again and looked at Eddard… _Ned_ , she reminded herself. His face was serious and solemn as ever, so unlike his brother’s, and yet Catelyn could almost take comfort in the quiet steadiness of his gaze. There was safety in his presence where there had been thrill and danger in Brandon’s. Perhaps it was less exciting, but it was not unpleasant.

“Please tell me if I have offended you, my lady,” Eddard’s voice penetrated Catelyn’s thoughts then and she blinked, realizing she had not answered him at all. She blushed, wishing now she had not stormed off so suddenly.

“You have not, my lord,” she replied, forcing herself to meet his eyes, “I only wish I had not even brought it up. You are preparing to ride to war and I would not wish to add my concerns to yours.”

“But your concern is just,” Ned replied quickly. “I know you are right that I should have an heir. It’s just that…” he paused, looking first at Catelyn and then at a treetop somewhere in the distance, “It’s just that I never had to think of such things until…” he trailed off.

_Until Brandon died_ , Catelyn finished in her mind and felt a wave of sympathy towards this young man who had not only lost his brother and father, but with them whatever liberty he might have known in his life before.

“We don’t need to talk of it anymore,” Catelyn replied, touching Eddard’s arm gently to assure him everything was well. He seemed surprised by her touch, but when he gave no sign of displeasure, Catelyn linked her arm with his and asked him to take her back to the castle. He agreed wordlessly and they walked the rest of the way back in a relatively comfortable silence.

At the gates they parted ways, Catelyn making her way to the kitchens while Eddard took off in search of Lord Arryn

 

 

Catelyn did not see her betrothed again until nightfall when the entire household gathered in the Great Hall for the feast. He joined the party late and Catelyn was already on her second cup of wine by the time Eddard took his seat by her side at the high table.

He gave Catelyn a polite nod and apologized for his lateness but made no other attempt at conversation for some time. Catelyn let him focus on the food served on his plate while she herself could hardly swallow down a full bite. The reality of what would happen tomorrow had begun sinking in for Catelyn and she kept stealing glances at her betrothed, wondering what his thoughts might be at the moment and whether he too was thinking of the morrow.

As Catelyn’s eyes scanned the rest of the room she could see, to her satisfaction as the hostess, that the food and the ale had gone down well for most of the guests and the noise in the hall was growing louder by the minute. The merriment only seemed to increase as more glasses were raised, time and time again, to first salute the two couples and then anything else that could be found worth saluting.

It was only when the first chords of music started playing when Catelyn turned to Eddard again. She noticed he had finished eating but had barely touched his cup of wine. Another thing, Catelyn noted, where he differed from Brandon who had always enjoyed a drink, and she suddenly wished she had not allowed a third cup to be filled for herself as she felt Eddard’s eyes on her.

“Are you well, my lady,” he asked, glancing at her plate where food remained almost untouched.

“I’m quite well, my lord,” she assured him, “just not very hungry.” Catelyn watched as the first couples took to the floor and began dancing to a merry tune. She smiled a slow smile and looked back at Eddard.

“Do you dance, my lord?” she asked, realizing even as she spoke that she really could not picture this solemn man on the dance floor at all. Eddard shook his head, confirming her suspicion.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much talent for it,” he replied, looking serious and a little out of place in the room where even the great Hoster Tully had enjoyed his fair share of wine and sat clapping his hands to the rhythm of the music. “If you wish to dance,” he added, glancing at her father, “please don’t feel you have to remain seated on my account.”

For a moment Catelyn felt conflicted, but when one of the father’s bannermen soon came to ask for her hand, she took his arm and let him lead her to the floor, deciding she could allow herself to enjoy her last night as a Tully.

For the rest of the night Catelyn was a much sought after partner and she rarely had an opportunity to return to the dais for longer than a sip of wine and an apologetic look cast in Eddard’s direction who never stirred from his seat. Throughout the night Catelyn was dimly aware that his eyes were on her more often than not, and a few times she caught him staring straight at her with an unreadable expression in his grey eyes. She wondered from time to time if he looked because he liked what he saw, or because he disapproved of her dancing with so many partners, but the wine had made her head feel light and she could not focus on the matter long enough to come to any satisfying conclusion.

The night had passed into the wee hours of the morning by the time Eddard finally left his seat, but when he approached Catelyn it was to bid her goodnight rather than to ask her to dance. Feeling a pang of guilt for having left him alone for so long, Catelyn followed him outside, away from the noise of the feast that still continued, but in the cool night breeze of the courtyard, she felt painfully aware of her own inebriation compared to his solid, steady presence. She knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glazed over, and she knew that her unsteady steps were not ladylike even though many ladies, her sister included, had enjoyed an even greater share of wine than she had.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your evening, my lord,” she said, knowing that he almost certainly had not.

“I am glad of the distraction for my men who will soon have to ride to war,” he replied, avoiding a direct answer.

“And what of yourself?” Catelyn persisted, leaning a little closer. It was the wine, she told herself.

When she stepped closer, Eddard’s eyes flickered with something Catelyn could not name, but he said nothing. A strand of hair had escaped her elaborate braid and before she knew, he had caught it between his fingers and brushed it aside, the back of his fingers lightly tracing her cheek as he did so.

Again Catelyn expected a kiss, and again it did not come, but this time she was almost certain it had at least crossed his mind for she had seen his eyes darting to her lips.

“Good night, Catelyn,” he said instead, his voice warm and gentle.

“Good night, my lord,” she replied and watched him walk away wishing, for the first time, that he had stayed a little longer.


	4. Eddard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a little longer than I had thought it would to update. I had also intended to include the wedding night in this chapter but that would have pushed the update even further away as it would have taken longer to write. It is coming as certainly as winter, though. Thank you all who have already reviewed and/or left kudos. It's always much appareicated. :)

The sept was full of people, and the thick crowd combined with the heavy smell of incense made the air almost impossible to breath. How anyone was supposed to feel close to the gods, either the new ones or the old, in this man-made chamber of torture, Ned could not understand.

As he waited for the ceremony to start, his mind lingered on the night before. Ned had spent most of the evening watching his betrothed as other men competed for her attention on the dance floor and it had been with a strange mixture of pride and something far less pleasant that he had observed how well admired she was: beautiful, smiling, and light on her feet. In short, she was everything that he was not, and like every other man in the hall, his eyes had been drawn to her like a moth to a burning flame.

Ned had told himself he was only keeping an eye on her because he knew she had had too much wine to drink, and the men dancing with her had had a good deal more, but even then he had known it was only part of the truth. He had looked at her simply because he had not been able to look anywhere else.

He had wanted to kiss her that night in the courtyard – would have kissed her if her eyes had been more focused - but he could not take advantage of her then or he would have been no better than the men he had wanted to protect her from. It was bad enough that he would have to hurt her tonight in order to consummate their marriage, and it would be the last memory she would have of him for a long time, perhaps the last memory she would have of him at all if the gods would have him share the fate of his brother and father.

Ned knew well enough that she had been kissed before, by Brandon. His brother had boasted on it in a letter after his last visit to Riverrun. But from the same letter Ned also knew that Catelyn had not allowed his brother any further advances – a kitchen maid had provided the rest of the amusement for Brandon who, while he had sworn to wait patiently for “his darling Catelyn”, had apparently not thought to do so without seeing to his own satisfaction while waiting.

Ned’s jaw clenched briefly as he recalled the detail, but he soon pushed the memory aside. It was not Brandon who would wed Lady Catelyn Tully today. Whatever his past misdemeanors might have been, they did not matter now.

Forcing all thoughts of Brandon out of his mind, Ned stood a little straighter and glanced at Jon Arryn who stood to his left looking decidedly more relaxed than Ned felt himself to be. Noticing his look, Jon turned to meet his eyes and gave Ned an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“It will be over soon,” he told him under his breath. “Just repeat what the septon says and it will be done before you know it.”

Ned nodded his head in acknowledgement, but before he could reply and point out it was not just the ceremony that made his palms sweat, a door at the end of the sept opened abruptly, revealing Lord Hoster Tully and, behind him, his two daughters.

Ned turned his eyes to Catelyn as she quietly took her place beside him but she met his eyes only briefly before turning to face the septon. Her long hair had been arranged in intricate braids and curls according to what Ned assumed were the latest fashion in the south. Her dress, too, was a work of art, befitting the wealth and high status of the Tullies of Riverrun. In fact, Lady Catelyn with her back straight and head held high would have been fit to marry a king of all the seven kingdoms, Ned thought gloomily, and yet here she was, to be joined for life to a simple man of the North.

He found himself wishing that it would already be tomorrow, that he would have performed his duty here and could ride out of the gates of Riverrun as a married to mad to fulfill a duty of a different kind. And yet, when Ned let his eyes rest on Lady Catelyn and his mind rushed to the courtyard where he had said goodnight to her the night before, he knew there was another, albeit small part of him that was loath to leave so soon.

_“One flesh, one heart, one soul.”_

Ned’s mind registered the septon’s words as Jon and Lady Lysa were joined together before him and Catelyn, and again his eyes sought his betrothed as he contemplated the words. They would be of one flesh soon enough, he knew, but he wondered in earnest when, if ever, they would truly be of one heart and soul. Would he be slain in battle or beheaded as a traitor, or would they build a life together in Winterfell after the war? Ned closed his eyes briefly, trying to picture Catelyn in the halls and rooms that were so foreign to her and yet so familiar to him. To Ned’s surprise, the image came to him almost instantly, only in his mind he had dressed Catelyn in the plain but practical clothing of the North, her hair tied simply back with a thin braid that left the rest of it falling freely over her shoulders. She was the Lady of Winterfell, standing with a babe in her arms and a smile on her lips, welcoming him home from whatever call of duty that had taken him away.

For a moment Ned allowed the image to linger, enjoying the sight and marveling at how tangible it felt. It was as if simply by reaching out his hand he could touch the mother and the babe, and feel the cool northern winds on his face.

Then he opened his eyes and found himself breathing the stuffy air of the sept again, and the Catelyn that stood next to him in all her finery did not look like she could ever belong in Winterfell. Ned shook his head, the image fading away as quickly as he had conjured it up. She would not enjoy the cold. She might never learn to love Winterfell as her home, but she would endeavor to be a good wife for him, and it was all he could reasonably ask for.

 

The rest of the ceremony passed in something of a blur for Ned as his and Catelyn’s turn came and all his attention was called to making sure he did not muddle his words. The last thing he wanted was for his first act as a husband to be a cause of embarrassment for his beautiful lady wife. Ned was only dimly aware that he received a faint smile from his Tully bride as he placed his direwolf cloak over her shoulders, and he hoped afterwards that he had had the presence of mind to return the smile, but he could not be sure that he had.

Even the kiss had been a hasty business, as far as Ned could later recall. He had been acutely aware of the numerous pairs of eyes fixed on the two of them at the time, and even more petrified by the pair of blue eyes looking directly at him. _His wife_. To his embarrassment, Ned realized that had the kiss been placed anywhere but on the lips of his bride, it might as well have been a kiss bestowed on a sister, for it had been so chaste and brief. His only consolation was that he had at least managed to find Lady Catelyn’s lips rather than her cheek.

By the time both couples made it to the Great Hall to start the feast, Ned felt exhausted and uncomfortable. Apart from the vows exchanged in the sept, he and Catelyn had scarcely spoken to each other at all and what little amicable companionship they had managed to forge during their private walks before seemed to have given way to a whole new level of awkwardness.

Not that there would have been much opportunity for conversation even had Ned felt himself more up to the task. The two couples had barely been seated at the high table when a crowd of well-wishers began to form around them, expressing their congratulations to the Lord and Lady Stark before moving on to repeat the words to the Lord and Lady Arryn. Ned noted that even though the Arryns had been wed first, owing to Jon’s greater age, it was Catelyn to whom the people of Riverrun were the most eager to bestow their good wishes on.

Ned watched his new lady wife as she sat with a gracious smile on her lips as a seemingly never ending crowd of men and women came each in their turn to wish them both joy. He did his best to respond with equal politeness to anyone who addressed him personally, but it was obvious enough that it was the new Lady Stark whose smiles and kind words were the most sought after.

Finally, it was the arrival of food and drink that made everyone return to their own tables, allowing Ned and Catelyn their first moment of relative privacy, seated as they were at the dais next to Lord Hoster Tully whose main concern seemed to be coaxing his sullen-looking younger daughter into good behavior on the other side of the table.

Having ascertained that his host required no attention, Ned turned to Catelyn and noticed the smile she had worn for the wedding guests had vanished and been replaced by a tenseness that Ned knew not how to ease. Much like the evening before, she was not touching her food, and this time her cup of wine remained untouched as well.

“Are you well, my lady?” Ned asked, realizing even as he spoke that it was the same question he had asked her the night before.

His voice seemed to startle Catelyn who had been silent for a long time, but she smiled faintly when she turned to look at him.

“I’m quite well, my lord,” she replied, giving the same response she had given him before. Then, perhaps realizing, too, that they were repeating their exchange from yesterday, her smile grew a little warmer. “Truly I am well,” she assured him with more conviction, placing her right hand over his left one on the table. “It seems I simply have little appetite tonight.”

Not for the first time, Ned felt a jolt where her palm made contact with the back of his hand, but the sensation lasted not long as she withdrew her hand without another word, and without expecting a response from him.

To turn his mind elsewhere, Ned tried to focus on the food on his own plate, but found soon that he too had little desire to eat.

“You are not hungry either, my lord?” Catelyn’s voice addressed him soon enough when he failed to make a start on his meal.

Ned smiled wryly.

“It seems this lack of appetite of yours is a contagious condition,” he replied, and was pleased to register a hint of amusement on the face of his beautiful lady wife.

_My wife_. Ned felt he had to keep repeating the words in his mind to make it seem real.

“Indeed?” she retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Then let us hope the condition spreads no further, or this banquet will be a very sorry affair indeed.”

Ned cast his eye about the room and could see no imminent danger of such condition befalling the guests who were eagerly emptying their trenchers and cups while the noise in the hall grew louder and louder.

“I believe you need not worry, my lady,” he replied, turning his attention back to Catelyn. She rewarded him at first with a smile, but after a while her face grew serious again.

“But I do worry,” she said quietly. Ned knew the confusion on his face must have been obvious for she continued: “What I eat tonight is of no consequence, but you will need your strength tomorrow.”

Ned sighed, wishing he could know whether her words were inspired by duty or a genuine concern for his well-being. He found himself guessing the former while wishing the latter, even though he knew he hardly had any right to.

“Catelyn…” he said softly, and her eyes flew to his at the sound of her name, as if it still surprised her to hear it coming from his lips. “I will eat it if it pleases you,” he pressed on, taking her hand fully into both of his for the first time since they had been joined in the sept. ”But please don’t say your eating is of no consequence. I would not have you fall ill any more than you would have me ride to war on an empty stomach.”

Ned watched as Catelyn’s expression softened and slowly eased into a smile again. She looked down at their joined hands and Ned felt a sudden impulse to pull his hands away as if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to, but he held on regardless, reminding himself that he would soon have to touch her far more intimately.

“If it pleases you, then I shall try to eat too,” she replied at last. They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer until finally Catelyn pulled her hand away, to Ned’s momentarily disappointment, until he realized it had been for the purpose of reaching out for the cold meat she had not touched before.

Endeavoring to meet his end of the bargain, Ned followed suit and had soon filled his trencher with all available food he could reach, earning a sideways smile from his lady wife as he tucked in, suddenly realizing that he was, after all, rather famished.

 

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Ned was pleased to see that Catelyn did eat as she had promised, and even more pleased that the heightened awkwardness that had existed between them since their eyes first had met at the sept, seemed to have thawed back to the more bearable level of awkwardness that they had already come accustomed to navigating during the past few days. It was not familiarity - not yet - but it was something at least.

Even the obligatory dance that could not be avoided had passed without much pain, which by Ned’s estimation was about as good as he could have hoped for. If Catelyn had found his performance lacking, she was gracious enough not to mention it. And if she had wished for a different partner, she kept those thoughts to herself.

Still, as he lead his wife back to her seat, Ned found himself wishing he had been blessed with even a small degree of Brandon’s natural charm and grace. Brandon, who could move on the dance floor as effortlessly as he could wield a sword in battle, would not have been escorting his beautiful bride away from the floor so soon.

It was almost a relief for Ned when almost as soon as they were both seated, a man who he recognized to be one of Hoster Tully’s bannermen came to claim Catelyn for the next dance. For a moment she appeared hesitant, as if wanting to go while feeling it her duty to stay, but when Ned met her eyes and gave her a nod of acquiescence, she smiled brightly at him and then turned away, leaving Ned with the hollow realization that by giving her permission to leave his side, he had just earned the first genuinely happy smile from her all evening. The fact that it bothered him was almost as disconcerting as the realization itself. Despite the fact that they were now married, he had no true claim for her affections. What was it to him if other men’s hands held her waist, or if her hair brushed briefly against their faces during the lifts and twirls of each dance? It should have made no difference to him, and yet Ned knew that it did.

Every time Catelyn returned to her seat, Ned was more reluctant to let her go again, and yet more determined to do just so, to convince himself that there was nothing to it.

Finally, it was the ever increasing calls for the bedding to start that brought Catelyn back to the dais with her face so pale that it made Ned forget every other thoughts he might have harbored during the evening. Instinctively, he shifted a little closer to Catelyn and was surprised when she seemed to welcome his closeness rather than recoiling from it.

“It will be alright,” he said softly, knowing his words held nothing but an empty promise, but she looked at him with trust in her eyes and nodded her head slightly. This, too, she would bear, and it pained Ned to think he could do nothing to spare her, not from the men who wanted to rip her clothes off, nor from himself when it came to consummating their marriage.


	5. Catelyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't very explicit but I decided to up the rating just to be on the safe side, and also for any future chapters.

Catelyn was grateful that it was dark. Not pitch dark, of course, even though she might have preferred it above anything else, but still it was rather darker than she had expected. It was fortunate, really, that not all of the candles that had been brought in to illuminate her husband’s chamber were burning by the time she was pushed in to the room, clinging to what remained of her shift.

She could still feel the pawing hands on her bare skin and see the hungry eyes of the men tearing at her dress. She had tried to keep her eyes closed for the most part, if only to avoid committing to memory the faces she would have to see again later, knowing they had seen in such an undignified state, but there had been moments her eyes had flung open in shock at a daring touch or the sound of ripping fabric, and she had seen precisely what she would rather not have seen: a host of drunken men, mostly strangers but some belonging to her own father, looking at her, undressing her and, even more disturbingly, touching themselves as they looked at her.

Still, at least something remained of her shift that could shield her from the pair of gray eyes that stared at her now. Not that Catelyn had been able to meet his eyes, or even look at him really, but she could see him in her peripheral vision and could feel his eyes on her as certainly as she could feel the floor beneath her feet.

She wasn’t afraid, really, not of Eddard. She had been afraid of the men who had carried her here, but not of him – at least not in that same way. She was afraid she might not meet his expectations, and she felt nervous about what she knew would happen next, but she was not truly afraid of _him_.

For a time they both simply stood still, and when nothing happened, Catelyn began to wonder if there was something she was supposed to do to initiate this ritual. Her septa had told her only to follow her husband’s lead - to close her eyes, and try to think of other things if the act proved too unpleasant or painful. It had sounded reasonable enough in broad daylight, but Catelyn realized now she was almost none the wiser for having received this piece of advice from her septa who probably knew little of the matter herself.

That it would be uncomfortable and painful seemed obvious enough, but how was it to be started if her husband lingered in the corner of the room and would not approach her at all? Was she expected to seduce him in some way? Frustration finally taking over her nerves, Catelyn let her eyes travel to where she knew her lord husband to be standing, and she was a little startled to see he appeared to be much closer than she had thought. When her eyes first came to rest on his bare chest, she had to fight an urge to look away, but she kept looking straight at him and, little by little, she let her eyes travel further down, spurred by curiosity.

Even though he, too, had been relieved of most of his clothes, he still wore his breeches. The laces at the front, however, had been untied and loosened enough to give Catelyn an eyeful that made her quickly look away.

"My lord..." she said, staring down at her own bare feet, not even sure if she was apologizing, pleading for him to say something, or simply acknowledging his presence.

Eddard stepped closer then, hastily pulling at the laces of his breeches to adjust them tighter, and Catelyn could see the movement, but she would not look at him.

"Catelyn," he said softly, and suddenly his hands were on her shoulders. "Are you well?"

Catelyn nodded her head wordlessly, and Eddard's hands cupped her cheeks, urging her to meet his eyes.

"Did those men...?" he asked, his jaw clenching even before he could finish his sentence. This time Catelyn shook her head. They had ripped her clothes and made her feel uncomfortable with their touches, but she had not been truly violated.

Eddard... _Ned_ , Catelyn reminded herself, nodded slightly and then stood still for a moment, searching her eyes for - what, she could not tell for his own face betrayed nothing. Permission, perhaps?

"You know what we...what I must do to you tonight?" he finally asked, his hands still cupping her face. His calloused palms felt rough against her skin, but when his thumb gently brushed over her cheek, the touch was not unpleasant. Catelyn nodded her head again, wordlessly, her eyes almost involuntarily darting down to the front of his breeches before settling neutrally somewhere just below his face.

She knew she was not being very helpful, and she wondered again if there was something she was supposed to do that her septa had failed to mention.

_Follow you husband's lead_ , her words rang in Catelyn's ears and she had just begun to wonder if by dawn they would still be standing where they were now if this was the lead she had to follow, when suddenly she could feel her husband's hand sliding from her face over to her hair, and for a moment he played clumsily with a strand that had fallen loose.

In fact, most of Catelyn's hair had already fallen loose during the bedding ceremony and, as it occurred to her that this was a lead she could follow, she silently reached for the back of her head to remove the pins and ribbons that still held the rest of her tresses together. If she sought for assurance that what she was doing was right, there was none verbalized. All she heard from Eddard in response was a sharp intake of breath, but when she ventured to meet his eyes, they seemed to have taken a darker shade of gray than she had ever seen in them before.

By the time her hair was falling freely over her shoulders, Catelyn could have sworn Eddard had inched much closer to her, even though she could not tell when or how he had moved.

"You are beautiful, my lady," he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he ran the tips of his fingers lightly through her hair. Then a slight pause followed and, after a brief moment of hesitation, he asked: "May I kiss you?"

Again, Catelyn's first impulse was only to nod her head, but when Eddard still looked hesitant, she managed a slight smile.

"I am your wife," she said simply. "You need not ask my permission to kiss me." _Your brother never did and we were only betrothed_. Though, granted, those kisses had not taken place while standing half naked in a candle-lit bed chamber with half the castle probably still standing outside with their ears pressed against the door and the walls.

"I would not kiss you against your will," was Eddard's quiet reply.

Catelyn thought of pointing out that they would have to do this whether there was willingness involved or not, but she knew the words would only have come across offensive when his words had been sincere, and suddenly she felt a wave of affection for this strange man who had landed in this situation as much against his will as she had and yet, instead of simply getting the deed done as he certainly could have, if what she had seen in his breeches was any indication, he still chose to hold back and give her time.

"I am yours to kiss," she said simply, "and it would not be against my will."

It was enough. Before Catelyn could close her eyes, Eddard's lips were on hers, and they felt much warmer and softer than they had in the sept where their lips had met for the first time. It was a gentle kiss, a real kiss unlike the one in the sept, but a scouting one rather than fully exploring. For the briefest of moments Caltelyn could feel Eddard's tongue tracing the outline of her upper lip and she was just about to open her mouth to allow him better access when he pulled away, leaving her standing with her mouth slightly agape.

Then Eddard’s hands were on her waist and her feet were off the ground, and with a couple of strides he had carried her over to the bed and laid her down against the pillows. Perhaps there was a limit even to Lord Eddard Stark’s chivalry and patience.

“You shouldn’t have to stand,” he said simply, sitting down on the edge of the bed so that they were still facing each other.

Or perhaps not.

Catelyn smiled in return and reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair off Eddard’s face, suddenly wondering if the bedroom was where one could truly learn to know a man’s character, rather than just his physical ability. It was a passing thought, and not one she had time to presently dwell on, but it gave her a bolt of courage that made her move her hand down until it came to touch Eddard’s bare chest. _Ned_ , she told herself again. _Ned_.

Catelyn’s touch was almost feather light, but she could still feel the beating of his heart, almost as fast as her own, under the pads of her fingers. She smiled at the discovery and gently pressed the rest of her hand against the thumping chest, absently wondering what her septa would have thought of such an initiative.

When she glanced up at Eddard, he met her eyes as if he had been waiting for her to look at him, but his thoughts she could not discern until his hands moved to grasp the hem of her shift – or what was left of it – and then she could suddenly understand the question hidden in his eyes. Slowly, Catelyn nodded her head and lifted her arms, giving her silent permission, and equally slowly Eddard lifted the fabric, pulling it over her arms and head until there was nothing left to cover her body.

To avoid his eyes, she looked quickly away, fighting an urge to pull a pillow from behind her back to cover her naked front. For an agonizing moment, nothing seemed to happen, and Catelyn was beginning to wonder if her figure did not please Eddard or if he was again waiting for her permission for whatever he needed to do next. Then she heard a stifled groan and a mumbled “Oh gods,” and she could not keep her eyes averted any longer.

The sight that greeted her made her gasp before she could stop herself. Eddard sat where he had been when she had looked away, but his cock had come out of his breeches, fully erect, and his hand seemed to have an almost desperate grip around its base.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” he breathed instantly. Catelyn had looked away, but the pleading tone of his voice made her turn to face him again, careful to keep her eyes level with his eyes. “I should not have…” he continued even as he seemed to be at a loss for words. “I thought I could wait but you are so…” he trailed off, and despite the awkwardness of the situation Catelyn felt an odd sense of pleasure and even pride in knowing that she had been able to affect him so.

It gave her courage, too.

“Then you should probably…” she began, but wasn’t entirely sure what it was that he probably should do. What she had been able to understand, though, was that his seed might spill soon and that it would all be for naught if it did not happen inside her.

Eddard seemed to understand her thoughts well enough, and he nodded his head, removing his breeches faster than he had yet done anything since their exploration of each other had begun. This, Catelyn knew instincitively, had to be the part where her septa had instructed her to close her eyes and think of other things.

_The river_. She could think of the river.

Catelyn closed her eyes, but she could feel the bed shift underneath her as Eddard joined her on top of it. She could feel his hands on her knees, pulling them gently apart. _Fish. The river is full of fish_. She could feel his touch move gently up her thighs – further and further up until…

Catelyn’s eyes flung open. She could not think of the river.

Eddard's fingers paused at the entrance to her opening. She looked at him and he met her eyes but even his face seemed uncharacteristically flushed and he soon averted his eyes.

"I...this might make it easier," he mumbled and Catelyn nodded silently even though he wasn't looking at her to see her assent. Perhaps he did register the movement of her head, however, for a moment later he slipped the tip of his finger inside her. Instinctively Catelyn grasped the covers of the bed for something to hold on to, but then let her hands relax from the grip as she realized it did not hurt, not yet anyway. Much like the kiss they had shared earlier, Eddard's hand seemed to be scouting rather than exploring. His touch was generally gentle but seemed to lack a true purpose. Even so, there were moments when Catelyn found the contact of his fingers almost pleasant, and she found herself wishing he would return to that same spot and press harder, even as he had already moved elsewhere.

She had just begun to grow used to this way of being touched when Eddard withdrew his hand and shifted his position between her legs, his whole body now hovering above hers.

"My lady..." he said, his voice sounding gruff. "I don't want to hurt you but..."

"Just do what you must," Catelyn whispered, her hands starting to grasp for the cover of the bed again as she braced herself for what was to come. Remembering the words of her septa, she pressed her eyes tightly shut, but the idea of trying to think of other things seemed almost ridiculous now.

Catelyn could feel Eddard's body descending closer to hers, but the first contact she felt, rather than the pain she had expected, was the light touch of his lips on her neck, his breath hot against her skin. It was a moment of sweet reprieve, and Catelyn wished she could have held on to it, but what came next was the pain between her thighs she had been preparing for.

A whimper escaped her lips before she could hold it back, and Eddard stilled his movement at the sound. Again his lips grazed her skin, and Catelyn wondered if it was his silent apology. She gripped the bedclothes a little tighter, certain that her knuckles would be white by now, and then nodded her head again to urge him forward.

As if on cue, Eddard pushed in deeper, letting out a low groan as he did so, followed by incomprehensible words that sounded like "gods" and a name that was probably her own. When he began to pull out soon after, Catelyn wondered briefly if this had already been it, but then he was pushing in again, a little harder this time. She fought back an urge to yelp in pain, gripping the bedclothes ever tighter as she tossed her head to the side, trying to hide her grimace, but there was no pause this time. No lips on her skin to soothe her. The thrusts came now quickly one after the other, but thankyfully there were not many of them, and sooner than Catelyn had dared to hope, she heard another goran as he spilled his seed inside her, and then, just as unceremoniously as it had started, their coupling was over. He remained inside her for only a moment longer as his breathing grew more even, and then rolled on to his side, letting out a heavy sigh - whether it was of contentment or relief, Catelyn could not tell. Perhaps it was both.

She could still feel the pain throbbing inside her, but the intensity of it was already beginning to subside and she allowed herself a deep, calming breath before opening her eyes. At first she could only stare at the ceiling, but as Eddard...Ned, shifted beside her, she turned her eyes towards him. He was looking at her intently, his eyes still dark, and she wondered not for the first what thoughts were hidden behind them. Was he thinking of her still, or of the war he would ride for tomorrow?

As she turned to face him fully, shifting off her back to lie down on her side, Catelyn could suddenly feel the weight of the moment between them. Not even a week ago she had met this man for the first time and now here she was, both in spirit and in flesh, his wife for better and for worse.

She smiled at him then, reaching out her hand to run a finger along his jaw, and it pleased her to see him lean slightly towards her touch. Words seemed unnecessary, even counterproductive, at that moment - and before she could pull away, he grabbed her hand and held on to it, pressing her palm gently against his cheek.

They remained silent like that for a long while, her hand resting on his face, both of them still naked and both looking at each other with unabashed interest now that it was all over - and both possibly arriving at the same realization that it was not really over at all. It was only just starting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that seemed believable enough for their first night. Basically I thought Ned, being Ned, would want to be considerate and take things slowly for Cat's sake, but he's also still just a young man, and not a very experienced one at that, so in the end nature would take its course rather faster than he might have intended.


	6. Eddard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update took a little longer. Thank you all who are still reading for the continued interest. :)

When Ned opened his eyes, it was still almost dark, and he quickly surmised he had likely slept no more than two or three hours. As he stretched and turned his head towards the windows, he could see the first light of dawn gathering outside behind the curtains, but it would be hours still before the castle would be bustling with life again, especially after the feast it had seen the night before. He could well have closed his eyes again to enjoy his last few hours in a comfortable bed, but the awareness of the Lady Catelyn, even as she lay asleep on the opposite side of the bed, was enough to push all thoughts of rest out of his head. Ned shifted slightly, as much as he dared while trying not to wake her, to gain a better view of the maiden – _no, she's no longer a maiden_ – with whom he now shared his bed.

In sleep she was just as beautiful as awake, and Ned was glad of the opportunity to truly look at his lady wife for the first time with no fear of being caught staring. Her beauty he had observed the moment he had first laid eyes on her, but there was something infinitely more endearing about the face he was looking at now – a face that bore none of the carefully fixed expressions that belonged to the Lady Catelyn he had married in the sept, and instead held only the innocent and unaffected sweetness of the eighteen year old girl he had bedded afterwards.

At the thought of the bedding, Ned felt a pang of guilt and shame as he recalled how uncomfortable it had been for her and how little he had done to help it, despite his best intentions. Even now he could see the small stain of dry blood on top of the cover where he had taken her, and he could remember how her face had contorted in pain the whole time he had been inside her even though she had voiced no complaint. Perhaps it was just well, Ned thought dryly, that he had spent as quickly as he had. Whatever pain he had caused her, it had not been of long duration, and her face now was the very image of serenity.

Before he could stop himself, Ned reached his hand forward until his fingers made contact with the mass of copper hair that lay sprawled on the pillows between them. He loved how she had set it free for him, even though he had barely dared to touch it at the time. She had looked so frightened, despite the resolve in her eyes, and as much as he had wanted to touch every part of her, he had tried hard not to.

Realizing too late the precarious path on which his thoughts were leading him, Ned stifled a groan, suddenly all too aware of the growing stiffness between his thighs. He knew he should think of other things, and for a moment he did try to fix his mind on anything except Catelyn Tully, _Stark, she’s a Stark now_ , only to find that he simply could not lie in the same bed with her and think of the war council or Jon Arryn’s hairy chest instead.

Ned sighed, shifting in the bed in an attempt to find a more comfortable position where he might attempt to ease himself, yet hardly daring to move a muscle lest it might wake Catelyn. Moreover, the room was almost unbearably hot, making his current discomfort even harder to bear. Springs in the Riverlands, it seemed, were easily warmer than even the summers in the North, and even as he lay naked on the bed while all the covers had been hogged by his lady wife, it was hard for him to find rest. Ned had just begun wondering if his best option was simply to escape the room entirely, even if it meant wandering the corridors stark naked and with a throbbing erection to greet any passers by, when he suddenly felt movement on the other side of the bed.

Horrified, Ned turned back just in time see Catelyn's eyes open.

For a moment, confusion lingered on her face, followed soon by recognition as the remnants of sleep left her eyes and she seemed to become aware of her surroundings.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Ned said quietly. "It's not morning yet." Even as he spoke, he realized Catelyn was looking at his naked body and he felt a great urge to cover himself even though he could not have done so without robbing Catelyn of the sheets that covered her own body. It might have spared her eyes, perhaps, but it certainly would have done nothing to help his current predicament.

Yet, as Ned tried to position his hands to cover himself as best as he could, Catelyn continued to look at him unflinchingly. If she thought anything of his obvious situation, she made no mention of it.

"You are not cold?" she asked instead, reaching out a hand from under the covers to touch the warm skin of his arm.

Ned shook his head. "I don't easily get cold," he mumbled, and then silence stretched between them again while Catelyn’s eyes now unmistakably traveled down his torso to where his hands tried to cover what they could.

“I…I should go and…” Ned began to say, but he was truly not sure what he should go and do. He could not very well walk off his arousal while she lay in bed, staring at his every movement.

Without a word, and to Ned’s infinite surprise, he then saw his lady wife shift towards him, letting the covers fall off her body as she inched closer. At the sight of her naked body, Ned could no longer hold back his groan and he closed his eyes in a desperate attempt to put himself in control.

“Gods,” he muttered, wishing perhaps for the first time that he had followed Robert more often to the whorehouses he liked to visit so that he might have a better hold of himself now.

When he opened his eyes again, he found his lady wife looking at him expectantly, and he realized she was waiting for him to do again what he had done to her just hours before. She could certainly not be accused for lack of perception.

“Won’t it hurt you again?” he asked hoarsely, even as he allowed his finger to trail down the side of her naked breast. Ned could feel a shudder run through her body then, but he could not tell whether it was because of his touch or simply because she felt cold without the bed covers.

“I don’t know,” she replied softly, and Ned found himself wishing he could give her something better to remember him buy than the painful memory of their first joining of flesh. 

“You must tell me if I hurt you,” he said simply, taking her hand into his and pressing it against his lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, my lady...Catelyn.”

She nodded her head, and Ned wondered briefly if she truly meant she would tell him, but it seemed he would not receive any further assurance. Without another word, he pressed his hand gently against her warm belly and let it rest there for a moment as he simply felt the movement caused by the steady rhythm of her breathing. When he felt sure his touch did not unsettle her, he let his hand slide slowly around her waist as he pressed his lips tentatively against her skin and pulled her towards him.

When his mouth found hers moments later, he kissed her gently but decisively, and felt gratified when he could feel her begin to respond, ever so hesitantly, to his ministrations.

Ned could not name exactly what had changed in the few hours since he had first taken her maidenhead, for a great deal of awkwardness and uncertainty still remained in every halting touch and caress they shared during their second round, but still, as Ned lay on his back afterwards with Catelyn’s head resting against his chest while his arm still circled her body, he felt the difference as clearly as he could feel her silky hair between his fingers. He could not delude himself into thinking she had felt the same pleasure he had, but he was almost certain the experience had been far less painful for her this time, and while he did not think she had particularly enjoyed him entering her, he thought there had been moments when she, too, had enjoyed his touches like he had enjoyed hers.

At first, the silence that fell between them after their love-making felt natural enough, and for a time Ned felt content simply lying with his back against the pillows while he played absentlymindedly with Catelyn's hair, but as the silence stretched on, he began to grow aware of the fact that they still had barely spoken to each other in earnest since becoming husband and wife. The silence after the first bedding had been understandable when they had needed a moment to simply take in each other without the interference of stilted conversation, but now, in the growing light of the new day, with Catelyn’s warm body still pressed against him, Ned could suddenly feel the pressure of everything that remained unspoken between them.

He wished he could give her some assurance of the future, but he had none in his power to give, not while the kingdom remained at war. He thought of Winterfell and wondered if Catelyn would ever know it as her home. It felt wrong somehow that he had come to marry her only to leave her in her childhood home to wait for a husband she barely knew to return.

But war was war, and Hoster Tully’s swords were needed.

“Do you truly intend to ride out today?” Catelyn’s voice cut through Ned’s thoughts as if she had guessed their direction. Or perhaps it simply was what they had both been thinking.

“I’m afraid we must,” Ned replied, twirling a lock of auburn her around his finger. “I wish the circumstances were different, but…”

“I know,” she said softly, and Ned understood he need not say more on the matter. She knew the facts of their situation as well as he did, and accepted it as part of what must be done. 

After a pause, he decided to pursue another subject:

“You’ll have the warmest rooms in Winterfell,” he said, “when, I mean, if I ever…” Ned realized too late that it had been a poor choice of subject.

“I wish you would not say if,” Catelyn cut in softly, she pulled away from his embrace enough to meet his eyes. 

For a moment, Ned felt puzzled. “What else could I say, my lady?” he protested. “I can’t be certain that I will return, even though...”

“I know,” she interrupted again and there was a note of sadness in her voice as she settled back, her eyes leaving his. "I know that well enough,” she added, and suddenly Ned thought of Brandon again and wondered what promises he had made her before riding off to King's Landing. He wondered also if Catelyn would grieve for her husband, were he to perish, like she must still grieve for her former betrothed.

"There's no certainty in war," he said quietly. "Anything I promise must come with that if, or it would only be a lie."

“That is why I would rather not take any promises at all,” Catelyn replied. “Conditional promises can easily end up meaning as little as false ones. I'd like to think I'm prepared for whatever may come. It's just..." she trailed off, seemingly hesitant to go on.

Ned wrapped his arm a little more tightly around her. "What is it, Catelyn?" he asked.

"It's just," she continued uneasily, "I have imagined a future for myself once that I thought was certain, only to see it wiped away in an instant."

Ned shifted uneasily, knowing full well now that she was speaking of Brandon, but when he tried to pull away, Catelyn would not let him.

"Ned, please," she spoke, turning to meet his eyes again, the tips of her fingers brushing gently against his cheek. "You are my husband and, gods willing, that means you are also my future. If you live, I will learn to love you as a wife ought, and maybe," she paused, blushing slightly, "maybe you will learn to love me, too."

"Catelyn, I..." Ned started, but Catelyn would not let him finish.

"I don't ask it of you now, and you need not say anything. The only think I will ask is that you paint me no picture of a future that might never be. I will pray for your safe return every day, like I will for the return of my father, but I would not spend my days imagining another life that may end up never being mine. I would think only of the present.”

There was not much Ned could say in return, and certainly nothing to protest against. He had no right to ask her to plan a future with him when he knew not whether he would even see his next name day.

Truthfully, he found the future difficult to think of as well. That image he had conjured up in the sept of himself and Catelyn with a babe in Winterfell had been a vivid one, but still it was naught but a dream and he knew that a long road lay between the reality they faced now and that flickering image that might or might not one day become their reality.

"My lord?" Ned realized he had remained silent too long when Catelyn's voice called him from his reverie. It did not escape him that she had reverted back to the use of formal address instead of the much more familiar name she had used only moments ago. He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I will honor your wish, my lady," he said simply, looking at their joined hands. "To plan too far ahead at a time like this would be a fool’s task." He paused for a moment, seeking her eyes again. "I only want you to know that if the gods have mercy on me and I return from the war unharmed, I will do my best to make Winterfell a comfortable home for you. If you allow me to make just one promise, let that be it, my lady. You need not think of it in the weeks and months to come, only know it to be true."

She smiled then, not one of those dazzling smiles he had seen her give freely enough to others, but a slow and steady one that was more visible in her eyes than on her lips.

"I will allow it, my lord," she said at last. "And I would make a promise as well, if you will let me."

Ned could see her face grow serious again and he nodded his head, not sure what to expect. "Of course, my lady," he said. "What is it?"

"I know it's not very likely. Not when it’s only been two times," she said, looking down at their joined hands with blushing cheeks. "But if I should find myself with child and give birth to your heir...I want you to know that no matter what comes, he will grow up to be a true man of the North. Even if..." she hesitated, but Ned did not need her to finish the sentence to understand what she was referring to.

“Catelyn…” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “Nothing would make me happier than knowing that my son, or daughter, would grow up in Winterfell, with or without me, but I could never ask you to…”

“That’s why you need not ask me,” she replied, her voice steadier than Ned knew his own had been. “Let it be my promise to you.”

Ned felt he should have argued that it was a promise much bigger than he had been allowed to make to her, but he did not find it in himself to do so when he met Catelyn’s eyes and was captivated by the quiet resolve in them. Perhaps they might even tempt the faith one more time, he thought as he moved in to kiss her once more.


End file.
